


A Private War

by Rhiw



Series: M is for Mummy [6]
Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha!Alec, Alpha!Bill, Alpha!Jack, Alpha!James, Alpha!Mycroft, Alpha!Sherlock, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondlock, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Lines taken from Skyfall, M/M, Omega!Eve, Omega!John, Omega!Lestrade, Omega!M, Omega!Mallory, Omega!Mike, Overprotective Holmes Family x10, Slash, Woah that's a lot of Omegas, omega!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an explosion of agony in his left side, pain spreading like a starburst across his rib cage, and suddenly James was falling. Despite the terrifying realization that he was plummeting to his death the agent felt his himself go lax, darkness tunneling his vision until only a pin prick of light remained.</p><p>He thought of soft skin and even softer curls, and then -</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Left with No Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was an explosion of agony in his left side, pain spreading like a starburst across his rib cage, and suddenly James was falling. Despite the terrifying realization that he was plummeting to his death the agent felt his himself go lax, darkness tunneling his vision until only a pin prick of light remained.
> 
> He thought of soft skin and even softer curls, and then -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear - when James is talking about his Kelvar vest - that's where Eve's shot hit him, bruising internal organs and giving him four broken ribs. The shot in the shoulder is from his earlier fight. Why this added detail? Because James' wounds sorta make for a giant plot hole if you know what to look for. Just go with it, yeah?
> 
> Un-betaed and not brit-picked.
> 
> I've rewritten the first chapter a little bit. Nothing major but I may be messing with till I like it better, so sorry about that.
> 
> James - 41  
> Q- 32

_There was an explosion of agony in his left side, pain spreading like a starburst across his rib cage, and suddenly James was falling. Despite the terrifying realization that he was plummeting to his death the agent felt his himself go lax, darkness tunneling his vision until only a pin prick of light remained._

_He thought of soft skin and even softer curls, and then -_

* * *

**April 21 st, 2011 **

It was cold and dreary in London, especially so after the heat of the Mediterranean Sea, but James hardly noticed the chill against his skin. The front of 221 Baker Street was fairly standard, not really standing out from the duplicate row houses on the block. But it held the double-O’s full attention.

Because somewhere inside it was Alcott Holmes.  
  
It had been easy enough to track down Alcott’s residence _,_ though James hadn’t initially been looking for it. He had been trying to track down his boss' residence, but then there had been two different addresses that the moving company had delivered the contents of M’s old flat to. One had been a posh townhouse, the other a flat. It hadn’t been very hard to figure out which one must have been Alcott’s. That, and the brunet had apparently completely remodeled 221C, as the numerous contracting bills in his name suggested.  
  
James didn’t even know what he was doing here. He knew better than to think that the Omega would welcome him back with open arms, not after having been dead for almost four months. Yet here he was - his need to confront M and figure out what the bloody hell was going on pushed to the rear in the face of a driving need to see Alcott. He wouldn’t talk to him, it would only upset the little Omega and the agent didn't want that. James just needed to make sure he was alright, to see that Alcott had healed. He'd only look. The brunet never needed to see him.  
  
At least that’s what he told himself.  
  
The Alpha was self-aware enough to know his feelings were an utter mess. Anger didn't even begin to cover what the double-O felt towards M. Not just because he was furious, because the depth of what James felt was not limited to anger alone. With a sigh the agent shook his head, glancing down to where the cab he'd taken earlier was still parked and waiting, the cabby looking pleased as punch as he filled out a crossword. James debated about whether or not he should just leave. Really, what was he doing here? James should be at M's already, trying to figure out who was attacking MI6 and why. There was too much going on, neither one of them could afford this, had time for this right now. And James wasn't sure if he was ready yet to address his splintered feelings. He’d been so sure before Istanbul. So sure that nothing M could say or do could change how he felt about the Omega.  
  
But now…  
  
His shoulder ached with a not so phantom pain and the Alpha rolled it carefully.  
  
_“Take the bloody shot!”_  
  
James’ jaw clenched and he dug his hands harder than necessary into his trench pockets. A part of him – the part that had been serving under Olivia Mansfield for almost half a decade – hoped that it was just a careless disregard for his safety rather than a personal statement about his interest in her son. That the woman he had bled and murdered for wouldn't kill him just because he'd tried to woo her son. Hoped that James' years of service and dedication meant more than that.

But the agent couldn’t quite make himself believe it.

Nor could he deicide which would be the greater betrayal. Not that one hurt less than the other. Either M thought the aging double-O too incompetent or impotent to finish the job or she'd let her feelings color her judgment. Both implied distrust in James and a disregard for his person that cut deeply. After all these years, had the Alpha only been fooling himself about MI6? In the end, was he nothing more than a tool to be replaced when it got chipped or blunted, to be thrown away without care? Was he so unacceptable as an Alpha that this was the only way M could think to get him away from her little boy?

...was the idea of having James as family truly so repulsive?  
  
For a while the agent hadn’t even been sure if he was going to come back. Zeynep had been a lovely girl; a stereotypical exotic Omega who would have gladly accepted him in her bed. But even if James had decided not to return he wouldn’t have stayed with her. She’d have wanted more eventually and the double-O had only conceded to playing the Alpha for one Omega. But it had been a way out. A way out of MI6 and away from the life, away from M’s motives and the indecision of what to do now. Away from the idea that he was too old and broken for Alcott, that he'd let yet another person close to his heart that he couldn't have. The shoulder wound had been intense and James hadn’t bounced back as quickly as the agent would have liked; old age was finally beginning to show how far it had dug into James. And while it hadn’t been the closest the double-O had come to death by any means, the fact remained that if he hadn’t been wearing that Kevlar vest when M had ordered the shot James would be dead.  
  
It had been the first time he’d almost been killed by friendly fire.  
  
No, James hadn’t been sure if he’d return at all. But then the attack on MI6 had happened and the agent had always been nothing if not loyal. The explosion had happened unnervingly close to the double-O floors and for a moment James had felt an almost overwhelming need to find out if Jack and Bill were alright. It had been an agonizing hour before he’d finally received several rather… _colorful_ texts from his friends assuring their safety. It was the sheer relief he’d felt at that, more than any loyalty to M or the department, that had him on a plane home. These were his people; James’ people.  
  
And the Alpha took very good care of his things.  
  
There was the sound of laughter and huffed breathing and blue eyes snapped up from where they had been glowering at a postbox in front of him as a group of joggers rounded the street corner. James’ breath hitched only once – at the first sight of Alcott, flushed and sweaty – before categorizing what he was seeing. They were all Omegas, which was not surprising. The Alpha couldn’t smell them from where he was, but Omega's tended to group up, forming strong friendships and support groups that lasted for years.  
  
John Watson was leading the small pack, running backwards as he encouraged a slightly pudgy brunet to keep up. Alcott was keeping pace next to him, looking completely at ease. An older, silver haired man was bringing up the rear, his expression fond and more than a little amused.  
  
“Come on, Mikey,” the doctor encouraged, barely out of breath, “you didn’t lose all that weight by half-assing it.”  
  
“Piss of, Watson.” The brunet snapped, chest heaving and sweats soaked to a darker color.  
  
Alcott laughed and James felt his heart twinge as the sound carried easily in the windless afternoon. “Breathe, we’re almost done.”  
  
“Oh, thank god.” Mike heaved, nearly doubling over in half as they came to a stop in front of the townhouse.  
  
“Stand up straight,” John admonished, yanking the Omega up by his sweatshirt, “you cramp your lungs when you do that. Deep breaths through your nose and out through your mouth.”  
  
“We made good time,” the older Omega said cheerfully, glancing up from his wrist watch. “You’re getting better, Mike. Lost five minutes.”  
  
“I hate all of you.” He stated around heaving intakes of breath. “Greg, give me a ride home will you? I think I’ll die if I have to use my legs anymore today.”  
  
The silver hair Omega clapped him firmly on the back. “No problem. Same time tomorrow, boys?”  
  
“Sure, that is if-” Whatever Watson was about to say was lost as the front door flew open, revealing a flustered and annoyed Sherlock Holmes and the shrieks of an angry baby. The detective held the screaming pup – Rishley, and _Christ_ he’d gotten big – as far away from his body as he could. All four of the Omegas visibly started at the sound, Alcott reaching for the baby automatically, bouncing the distraught child on his hip.  
  
“Make it stop.” The Alpha demanded, his lips curled in a snarl.  
  
Watson pointed an accusing finger at his Alpha as he ran a soothing hand over the hiccupping baby’s back.  “What did you do, Sherlock? You had him for less than an hour.”  
  
“This is not my fault. I told you I was terrible with children. Do not leave me with it again.”  
  
Alcott sent his brother a threatening glare. “If you don’t stop calling your nephew an ‘it’ I’m going to-” He’d turned, perhaps to say something to his brother-in-law, and froze. Pales eyes widened in shock, the Omega losing all color as he caught sight of James’ form and the double-O felt his stomach drop down to somewhere around his knees. He had to fight off a sudden, ridiculous urge to flee as Alcott's face hardened.  
  
“Go inside, Sherlock.” The brunet ordered sharply, pushing Rishley into John’s arms. The other Alpha frowned, grey eyes following his brother’s stare and narrowing as they locked onto James. The elder Holmes took a step down the steps, his body tense and hostile before John stopped him with a firm hand on his chest.  
  
_“John-”_  
  
“Leave it.” The Omega warned, pushing the detective back into the building before gesturing for the other two to follow. “Mike, Greg, come have a cuppa.”  
  
The other Omegas followed obediently but James didn’t miss the warning look the silver haired one – Greg – sent him before following them inside. Alcott watched him for a moment longer, hands clenched at his side, before stalking across the street.      
  
Again, James had to fight to urge to flee from the Omega.  
  
“Alcott, I-” The Alpha was cut off rather abruptly as the brunet gripped him by the coat lapels and yanked. He stumbled forward a step, years of training allowing him to keep his footing easily, then felt his entire body lock up - stunned - as warm lips found his own. It took the agent a heartbeat to realize what was happening and then he pulled Alcott flush against him, an arm curving possessively around a slim waist.  
  
_Years,_ James realized almost giddily, he’d waited _years_ for this. He inhaled deeply, reveling in Alcott’s healthy scent, free of even a hint of the illness that had tainted it. His hand slid up to tangle itself in curls, tilting the brunet’s head so he could deepen the kiss. The Alpha groaned as his tongue traced across the seam of Alcott’s _softsoft_ lips, desperately wanting to know if the Omega tasted as good as he smelled. James was almost incapable of thought, so caught by how right it felt to have the brunet pressed so intimately against him. How had he ever thought he could give this up?  
  
Alcott pulled back abruptly and James instinctively followed the escaping lips. A harsh slap on the side of his face brought him firmly back to reality and he loosened his hold, letting the brunet take a few shaky steps backwards. The Omega looked a mess, a hand pressed against his lips, face even more flushed then when he’d been running. But there was no lust on his delicate features. Alcott’s eyes were wide and glossy and the brunet blinked hard in an obvious attempt to keep from actually crying. He looked devastated, his face a mix of emotions and none of them kind.  
  
“I thought you were dead.” He breathed and James' hands twitched with the need to comfort the distressed Omega. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and gather the younger man to him again, to comfort him and fix his hurts – but the Alpha knew better. James dropped his gaze, shame making his throat tight and prickly. “I woke up and you were gone. And then you were dead. _Everyone_ was dead!”  
  
Alcott was quivering with the force of his emotion, his hands fisted so tightly by his sides they’d gone white.  
  
“M-”  
  
“Don’t bring my mother into this.” The brunet snarled, eyes flashing. “I’m not a child. If you think for a second I would have let her – how could you let me think – God, to think I wanted to bon-” The brunet cut himself off, but it was too late, the words were already out. James sucked in a sharp breath as he was struck with a surge of _want_ that hit him so hard that it nearly left him breathless.  
  
“Finish it.” The Alpha demanded, voice rough with the twin emotions of lust and possession. “What did you want, Alcott?” He reached out, allowing only the tips of his fingers to brush across the brunet’s jaw before trailing them down over his throat. Alcott shivered slightly in front of him, squeezing his eyes closed as if he could somehow make James disappear. “For me to bind you so tight that you’d never want for another? To spend the rest of your days in my bed, filled so full you could only ever smell like me?”  
  
_Fuck,_ James wanted that. Wanted it more then he’d ever wanted anything in his life, more than he had thought possible until this very moment. The double-O was already half hard, his heart beating a rapid staccato against his rib cage. He pressed his hand flat until it was wrapped around the smooth column of skin that had haunted his dreams, his thumb pressed over the Omega’s rapid pulse.  
  
Green eyes flew open, hard and hurt, and in that moment Alcott looked more his mother’s son then ever before.  
  
“I guess we’ll never know, will we?” The Omega spit out bitterly, taking another step backwards. “Whatever could have been is dead, James. It died with you.”  
  
He left, and James let him, knowing that he deserved no less than this. Still the agent stood, staring longingly at the closed door of 221, hurt and regret and self-hate tangled in his chest, as he desperately wished he knew someway fix it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and the comments and kudos!


	2. I Let it Fall, My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly he understood.
> 
> “You’ve lost him.”
> 
> M swirled around, green eyes fierce even as her voice remained terribly composed. “We are not here to talk about my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed and not brit picked.
> 
> There are a lot of lines from the movie in this chapter - but I've tried to liven it up.

_Everything was heat. James had never felt this hot before in his life. He twisted, letting out a groan as his oversensitive skin scraped across cheap sheets. It felt like his entire side was on fire – his shoulder aching fiercely, as if something was trying to rip its way out._

_A cool hand was on his forehead, a kind voice (“-ateş ile. Sen, Alpha nefes gerekir-”), the scent of an Omega. It was wrong, all of it was wrong. The hand too small, the voice too high, the smell too sweet – and James let out a low growl of frustration before feeling himself slip back into burning nothingness._

* * *

**April 22** **nd , 2012**

M’s new home was far too posh for James' tastes. Still, she always did have the best brandy and the double-O served himself a healthy pour before heading towards a window seat set in the south wall of the dining room. The position gave him easy access to both the front and back entryways of the house, as well as gave him a clear line of sight to the front street.

The agent paused, eyebrows furled, before reaching down and picking up a discarded jumper that was draped over the side of the cushioned seat. He brought the collar of the (slightly hideous) brown knit up to his nose and inhaled, feeling his stomach tighten unpleasantly as he caught the faded scent of Alcott. M’s scent was also present, but only on the very bottom of the jumper. As if it was never folded but rather lifted carefully by its hem. 

It was a scent reminder, James realized, glancing at the knit in surprise. Something usually done to preserve the smell of friends or family that were dead or lived too far to visit regularly. Why would M need one of those for Alcott? The Omega lived half an hour walk from here, less if by car. Yet the scent on the jumper was months old – a pale shadow of the brunet’s rich essence.

The thought of Alcott made James hurt.

He should never have allowed the Omega to see him. There was a thousand better ways for James to have told him he was still alive. He had almost convinced himself that he’d made a mistake. That his fears had been correct after all. It would never have worked out, not between M and his job and the lifestyle. It had been easy for the Alpha to convince himself of that in that isolated little village. But now that he’d seen Alcott again…James didn’t know if he could let him go a second time. The Omega’s angry words seemed to echo still in the agent’s ears and with a sigh he let the jumper slide from his fingers.

Then again, he may not have a choice.

A pair of headlights cut across the dining room and James settled back against the cool window frame, taking a deep sip of the brandy as he waited for M. He didn't have to wait long. She looked exactly the same, which shouldn’t have been so shocking giving the Alpha had only been gone for a handful of months. Yet for some reason James had expected something else – something more. The actions in Istanbul had reshaped him so thoroughly – physically and otherwise – that to see M so unchanged seemed grossly out of place to the agent.

M went to make herself a drink and then froze, staring wide eyed at his shadowed outline before her nostrils flared, scenting him. Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly, a line of tension easing off her face as she turned from him to continue making her drink. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Enjoying death.” The Alpha replied dryly. He titled his glass in a mini-salute before emptying it. “007, reporting for duty.”

Lights flickered on but the double-O barely blinked at the harsh transition. “Why didn’t you call?”

“You didn’t get the postcard?” He felt like baring his teeth at her. Was this how they were going to play this? Just pretend her order hadn’t nearly led to his death? The Alpha forced the growl in his chest to quiet and kept his voice level, trying to maintain some level of professionalism. “You should try it some time. Get away from it all. It really lends _perspective.”_

She ignored the barb, giving him a somewhat disgusted once over. “Run out drink where you were, did they?”

He felt his lips curl back in warning at her dismissal and crossed the room in a few angry steps before coming to a stop in front of her. The agent’s stance was purposely wide, his shoulders stiff and forward as he glared down at her. But M ignored his posturing with the practiced ease of a woman who sired three Alpha sons.

The silence grew even longer and James decided that enough was enough; he’d never been one for beating around the bush and he was far too pissed off to even attempt to now. “What was it you said, ‘take the bloody shot?’”

M stiffened defensively but held the double-O’s gaze unerringly. “I made a judgment call.”

“You should have trusted me to finish the job.” He growled out, hands flexing at his sides. “Or was it less about the list and more about Paris?”

The Director swirled, placing her hands flat on an ornate desk table, and leaned forward. James cocked his head to the side in interest, sensing a sudden intensity that hadn’t been in the air before.

“…no matter what you or my son may believe, Bond, I have more integrity – and more respect for my position – to ever do what you’re implying.” The Omega took a deep breath before turning slightly at the waist so she could see him easier. “It was the possibility of losing you or the certainty of losing all those other agents. I made the only decision I could and you know it. Besides, if I wanted you dead, 007, I’d have done it myself.”

James snorted sharply at that before deliberately reaching around M to grasp her drink. Outside of a stiffening of her shoulders, his boss didn’t acknowledge the invasion of her personal space. He withdrew just as suddenly, tossing the last of her bourbon down before setting it nosily on the glass table top.

“And just what it is that your son believes, M?”

“I assure you, I can’t even begin to imagine what Alcott believes.”

There’s bitterness there. And a hurt, deep and binding. The Alpha watched her for a long moment before letting his gaze flicker from her stern form to the brown jumper still resting so unassumingly on the well-tailored window seat.

_‘Don’t bring my mother into this.’_

The new, separate residences.

_‘I’m not a child.’_

The scent reminder.

_‘If you think for a second I would have let her-’_

And suddenly James understood.

“You’ve lost him.”

M swirled around, green eyes fierce even as her voice remained terribly composed. “We are not here to talk about my son.”

The double-O only tipped his head in acknowledgement and knew that he would never bring up the little Omega in front of her again. Because James had won. He’d won before the Alpha had ever known he was fighting for something. He would have laughed if he hadn’t felt so devastated.

Alcott had chosen him.

If only James had done the same.

“I won’t apologize.” M said sharply, interrupting the agent’s litany of self-reproach. He glanced up at her and the Omega took his silence as something else completely. “You know the rules of the game, you’ve been playing it long enough. We both have.”

The Alpha thought of the pain on Alcott’s face and sighed, “…maybe too long.”

M looked at him sharply, face far from amused. Perhaps even a touched alarmed. “Speak for yourself.”

“Ronsen didn’t make it, did he?”  
  
“No.”  
  
He had known it, but the double-O still felt something inside him sink. Jack had sent Alan Ronsen to James to help him pass his sniper quals. They had trained together for less then a month but he’d been a good agent. Alan had been a strong Beta, young at twenty-six but mature beyond his years. Unlike most of the younger agents, he'd never put on any airs. Rosen had just averted his eyes, tilted his neck to the side and let James’ snark roll off his back. Then passed his quals with one the highest rankings seen in years.  
  
The double-O had liked him. Had respected him.  
  
And in that moment Ronsen had seemed so _young_. The eyes that had stared up at him were not that of a competent field agent - but those of a pup, frightened and pleading in the desperate hope James could somehow save him. Yet in the end Alan had died alone and afraid, without even the scent of his old Alpha instructor for comfort.  
  
James shouldn’t have left him.  
  
Just like he should never have left Paris.

He had known better. Everything inside James had told him that leaving had been wrong and yet he’d still done it. If the Alpha could no longer trust himself to make the right decisions, where did that leave him?

“So this is it,” the double-O mused bitterly. “We’re both played out.”

The green eyes observing him were far too shrewd for his comfort.

“If you believe that why did you come back?” James didn’t answer, but M didn’t care and the Director carried on over his silence. “Because we’re under attack. And you know we need you.”

The double-O sighed. He felt confused. Everything had been so much simpler back in that village, far away from Alcott and the feelings the little Omega roused in James. He had been hiding, though damn if the Alpha didn’t realize it until now. His loyalty to MI6 and the woman in front of him – to the Omega who had done more in shaping his character then his own mother had – had been the only constant in his life. And her son...Alcott had been the only Omega out of _many_ that James had ever considered seriously. What had happened in Istanbul, it had changed everything and as long as he stayed half the world way, the double-O could avoid facing it all.

But now Alcott was gone.

And once again, all James had was MI6.

The Alpha sighed. “Well, I’m here.”

M pointedly ignored the hollow tone of defeat in the double-O’s voice. “You’ll have to be debriefed and deemed fit for active service. You can only return to duty when you’ve past the tests. So take them seriously.” The Omega wrinkled her nose. “A shower might be in order.”

The agent could admit that he wasn’t the freshest. Besides, it would be nice to go back to his flat. “I’ll go home and change.”

M let out a little chortle, sounding far too pleased with herself. “We sold you flat. Put your things into storage. Standard procedure on the death of an unmarried employee with no next or kin. You should have called.”

James stared at her, aghast, before trying to save face with an unconvincing shrug. “I’ll find a hotel.”

The Director ‘tched.’ “Well, you’re bloody well not sleeping here.”

* * *

MI6 kept a suite on reserve at the Dukes Hotel that James took shameless advantage off. The Alpha gave his measurements to the suite’s private concierge and sent him off to his favorite shop. The man earned a substantial tip when he’d shown up with a series of Tom Fords.

By the time they’d been delivered, the agent had showered and shaved and admittedly felt far more alive. The double-O clicked off the lights, the television muted on an info-commercial, and tried to sleep. James had little hope of actually achieving that goal, though. It wasn’t so much the time difference – Istanbul was only two hours ahead of London after all - but James knew he wouldn’t sleep nonetheless. Instead he stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to recall how it had felt to have Alcott flush against him, to have him pliant and sleepy in James' arms. It made everything just that much worse, but the agent couldn’t make himself stop.

About an hour into it there was a knock on the door.

The eyelet revealed the concierge and the Alpha opened the door only enough to allow his face to be seen, his sidearm tucked behind his back out of sight. “Yes?”

The concierge offered him a genial smile before offering him a slim ivory envelope. “This was left at the front desk, sir.”

“Thank you.” James took it, tilting it at an angle but nothing shifted inside of it. The agent held it up to a lamp but the foil tissue lining kept the light from revealing what was inside of it. The envelope itself was a Smythson, one of their high-end brand, and made of thick, quality paper. It had an engraved black beetle, highlighted with gold and blue accents, on the center of the back flap. Frowning, the double-O fished out his pocket knife and carefully opened the letter.

The paper inside was of the same level of expense and James cautiously brought the envelope up to scent its insides, in case someone had laced it with anything. The Alpha froze as the scent of Alcott struck him, faint but undoubtedly his, and he had to force himself to pull the letter out with much more care then he wanted to. It was a single sentence, written in loose but neat cursive.

_I'm so glad you're alive._

James felt his lips twist into a sharp smile, blue eyes flashing as he brought the letter up and took another deep inhale of his omega's scent.

There was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: National Gallery. 
> 
> I'm as excited as you are.
> 
> Did you like?


	3. I Know I Left You Speechless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old warship being towed in to be destroyed. This had better not be some kind of statement, the agent thought dryly. He'd had far then enough opinions about his age lately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, super un-beta-ed for now.
> 
> Ann Reilly does exist - she's from the books.
> 
> Sorry the wait was so long! RL got a little intense there for a bit.

_She was perfect. A wet, tight heat that clamped like a vice around his cock. Zeynep was writhing like a woman possessed, her face loss in bliss as she rode him._

_His orgasm was_ right there _but James couldn't seem to reach it. With a groan he closed his eyes, thrusting harder to try and coax completion. Suddenly the Omega riding him was no longer Zeynep but Alcott, skin flushed and eyes bright like it had been that night and -_

_The Alpha let out a muted howl as he came, hips snapping up wildly as his knot flared out._

* * *

**April 23 rd, 2011 **

It was by far not the strangest place that James had ever received equipment, but the National Gallery was easily the oddest place he'd ever met a Q. The old Q – his Q – Ann Reilly had been caught in an elevator when the explosion had happened at MI6 and she hadn't made it out.

Reilly had had a heart problem since she was a little girl and while the stubborn woman hadn't been supposed to live past her thirties, the Beta was fifty-eight when James had first meet her and sixty four when she'd died. The Alpha had loved her; she had been hilarious, clever, and brilliant. Even as Q - the only position that held the same kidnapping threat as M - she should have been completely safe. Q-Branch were thinkers, not fighters. They took care of the field agents; worked long hours providing intel, support, weapons. In return they were supposed to be safe, locked away in MI6 and under guard at home. But Annie was dead – as was five other Q-Branch workers. All because they'd wanted a snack from the canteen at the wrong time. 

So here was he was, checking his coat and making his way past school children and tourists, to meet her replacement.

As if anyone could possibly fill Annie's shoes.

He'd been to the Gallery a handful of times and the agent never stopped being impressed by the richness of the detail the building held. He made his way to Room 34, perusing the paintings before finally making his way to _The Fighting Temeraire._ He glanced about casually but didn't see anyone that could have been Q. The agent glanced at his watch with a frown. He was only five minutes late, no reason to call and check in - traffic had been terrible after all. James shifted, tucking his hands into his pocket as he read the paintings description.

_The Fighting Temeraire tugged to her last Berth to be broken up, 1838, by English artist J.M.W. Turner._

After a moment the agent snorted, rolling his eyes as he glanced away.  An old warship being towed in to be destroyed. _This had better not be some kind of statement,_ the agent thought dryly. He'd had more than enough opinions about his age lately. A group of teen-aged Omegas next to him giggled at his actions and James sent them a quirked smile. This sent them into more giggles, one tiny red headed girl turning almost the same color as her hair. The Alpha just shook his head, amused. They were far too young for him; they still carried the slightly sweet and sour scent of a pup. That didn't stop a leggy blond from giving him a lewd smile and an exaggerated wink.

“Careful, Bond.” The Alpha jerked at the familiar voice, head snapping to the side, hands jerking from his pockets in surprise. Alcott stood just a few feet away from him, looking dwarfed and incredibly young in a raincoat and suit. The Omega nodded to a stern, fierce looking Alpha at the other end of the room. She was holding a clipboard and glaring absolute death at the agent. “I daresay in a fight between the two of you, I'd put my money on her.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” James said smoothly, turning to completely face the brunet. “I should hope I could handle a school teacher.”

Alcott's head tilted ever so slightly to the side, as if thought, and the Alpha felt stripped under that pale gaze. He had an overwhelming urge to step closer, to touch the Omega – to touch _his_ Omega. James swallowed hard at that thought, curling his hands by his side to keep from doing so as the brunet moved to stand next to him.

“It always makes me feel a little melancholy.” Alcott said softly, eyes roaming over the painted canvas. “Grand old war ship, being ignominiously hauled away to scrap...The inevitability of time, don't you think?” Suspicion was quickly overtaking the spike of pleasure that had blinded him at the Omega's arrival and James stiffened, flickering from the painting to the smaller form next to him.

...there was no way M would allow it. But what the hell were the chances they'd both be here at the same time?

Light eyes glanced over at him. “What do you see?”

At his silence, Alcott reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain, thin envelope. James didn't move to take it. “Your ticket to Shanghai, documentation and passport.” As his silence reigned on, the Omega sighed. “Do try to remember your professionalism, 007. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be.”

The agent jerked as if he'd been slapped before reaching out and taking the packet, tucking it into his suit jacket. Alcott gestured to a nearby benched and James followed but didn't sit, staring down at the brunet, mouth dry.

_Alcott was working at MI6._

He produced a thin black case, flipping it open before handing it to the Alpha. “Walther PPK S9Milimeter short. There’s a micro-dermal sensor in the grip, encoded to your palm print so only you can fire it.” A tiny smile quirked the edge of the brunet's lips, his thumb brushing over the gun casing as if in a caress. “Less of a random killing machine and more of a personal statement.”

The gun was beautiful.

James couldn't give less of a shit.

_As Q._

Alcott pointed to a thin, grey square set into the foam insert. “Standard issue radio transmitter. Activate and it will broadcast your location – a distress signal.” The Omega clicked the box close and pushed it into the agent's hands as he stood. “And that's it.”

_Alcott was Q._

The younger male was watching him, brows slightly drawn together in confusion; bottom lip caught slightly between his teeth before long, nimble fingers reached out and straightened his tie. Green eyes glanced up at him hesitantly from behind full lashes.

_Annie had been Q._

“...good luck out there in the field.” The Omega said softly, a hand lingering slightly on the smooth fabric. Then he stepped away, any hint of the emotion that had been there before gone. “And please return the equipment in one piece.”

_Annie, who was dead._

The Alpha surged forward, grabbing the startled brunet by the elbow and yanking him into the next room.

“Double – Bond? James!”

He ignored the Omega, yanking open the door to a handicap bathroom. Sheer luck made the room a single and empty and James swirled, pushing Alcott in before locking the door before him.

“What the hell, James?” Alcott demanded, green eyes bright with a fury that didn't even dim when the Alpha rounded on him. “Never mind the fact that I'm your superior, who the hell do you think you are?”

“Why are you working for MI6?”

“Let me out of here, right now!”

Alcott moved as if to side step him and the agent snarled, slamming both his hands into the tile wall on either side of the brunet's frame, the slim gun case clattering noisily against the floor. The Omega jumped and instinctively shrunk back, eyes wide. _“Answer me!”_

“Because I wanted to! Because they needed me to!” Alcott growled out, the fear that had been there before completely gone. “And no one – not my mother or my brothers and definitely not some delusional, possessive Alpha-”

“Possessive? I’m -”

“– is going to stop me from doing my job. Me?” He jerked a thumb in his own direction, “I'm the best they've got and after what just happened they _need_ the best.”

“It's not safe for you-”

“For the love of –!” The Omega snapped, “MI6 is _falling apart._ The department's entire mission is up for review by the PM, for god's sake, and someone's just cut through some of the most advance crypto-software out there like it was a joke. It doesn't help that we lost both Rs as well as the old Q -”

“Yes, I know, that's-”

“- we'd be the laughing stock of every intelligence community if they weren't so furious at us for losing the list -”

“You're-”

“- the last thing that should matter is that I'm an Omega!” Alcott ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I mean – _Jesus,_ James, I hadn't pegged you for a chauvinist. Why does what I have between my – oomph!”

Pale eyes stared up at him, that perfect, full mouth finally stunned silent as the Alpha pinned him roughly against the tiled wall. Alcott flailed suddenly against him, but the movements were uncoordinated and the agent caught both his wrists easily, pinning them above his head.

“W-Wait, what are you - mmph! Jaymmsh!”

He tasted like tea and oranges – the thin Omega's lunch most likely – and James groaned at it, pressing the length of his body against the brunet's as he mapped out the warm mouth. Alcott whimpered, his struggles growing weaker and weaker until he went completely limp in the Alpha's grasp. The first, hesitant swipe of a tongue against his own floored James and he freed one of his hands to tilt Alcott's face to a better angle, a contented rumble escaping him as the Omega responded.

The kiss was sloppy, echoing in the bathroom around the sounds of their heavy pants. Alcott let out a low whine against his lips, tugging at the grip on his wrists and the agent relented, freeing the Omega. Both arms curled around James' shoulders, hands bunching up the fabric of his suit, as the Omega pressed closer. James wanted to take things further. He wanted to kiss Alcott until he was senseless with pleasure, slick dripping down his thighs. Wanted to swing the brunet around, press him against the walls and sink his fingers deep inside – finally see if the little Omega was as tight as he'd dreamed. Wanted to get down on his knees and taste the heady scent that was only just now coloring the air. He wanted to do so much, wanted it so badly.

But James knew he couldn't let himself, not with the way things were now. With more self-control then the Alpha ever imagined he had, he somehow managed to pull away. Alcott had never looked as perfect as he did just then – checks flushed and lips swollen, those clever eyes dulled with pleasure.

He gave the confused Omega a quirked grin, “You talk too much.”

“I...you...James, _damn't,_ I-”

“Hush,” the Alpha chided, pressing the pad of his thumb against Alcott's lips, “my turn to talk.” For a split second James paused, mind racing through half-words of explanation and regret, before he settled on a simple, “I hurt you. And I've never regretted anything as much as that. Maybe I don't get the right to worry about you anymore – but I do.”

James found that the smallest amount of pressure could part Alcott's lips just slightly, and for a moment he stared wantonly at the sight of his calloused, bent thumb against the smooth skin. There was a burst of moisture against the very tip of the digit – a fleeting touch as the Omega acted on reflex - and the Alpha's eyes darkened. He forced himself to look away, back up into Alcott's eyes.

“And it's not because you're an Omega, or because I don't think you could handle it. It's because -” The words froze in his throat and the agent looked away, suddenly unsure and frustrated with his cowardice. Even with Vesper he'd struggled to say the words out loud. “If anything ever happened to you – I can't, Alcott.”

“Don't you think I feel the same way?” The Omega’s voice was barely a whisper but the Alpha heard it clearly, his heart clenching with hope as his head snapped back to stare at him. Alcott's head was bowed, shaggy curls and thick frames hiding his expression from the older man. “James, I – I've wanted you since Papa's funeral, maybe even longer. And then the more we talked, the more I wanted. With Paris, I thought...”

Hands reached up to wipe at his eyes underneath his glasses, it should have been an awkward move but on Alcott it only seemed endearing.

“How could you let me think you were dead? You didn't even come back for me, James. You came back for MI6.” His breath hitched in a sob and James felt like he'd been shot all over again. “Did I do something wrong? Did I assume to much? Was I...was I not enough?” James couldn't help the pathetic sound that escaped him as he reached towards the brunet; he'd never meant to make the Omega think any of those things. Never meant to hurt him like this. Never meant to make him feel less. “Don't.” Alcott said sharply, a hand held up defensively between them, stalling the Alpha's reach. “Please, don't.”

“Alcott.” The Alpha murmured helplessly, hands falling uselessly to his sides. “Alcott, I love you.”

Strange how easy those words left him now, in his fear and desperation.

The Omega shivered, leaning forward until his forehead was resting lightly against James' chest. “I wish I could believe you.”

James was completely still, mind racing to find a way to fix this. He couldn't lose Alcott. That wasn't even an option. The Omega was his; his mate and more if the Alpha had any say in it. He couldn't lose him. Determination flared in his breast, hot and heavy, the same brand of fierce will that had got him through spec-ops, got him into MI6. The same kind that had kept him alive when his peers died off or retired. He cupped the Omega's face, tilting it so he could see it once more.  “When this mission is over, I'm going to prove it to you.”

Alcott stared up at him, expression hard despite the redness of his eyes and nose, for a long moment. James was unsure of what it was he eventually saw there, but the harshness softened minutely.

“...better hurry back then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^_^;
> 
> ...you like? It's a bit more dialogue heavy then some of the chapters. I hope James' declaration came off IC, its kind of hard because I don't think I've ever seen him say it in any of the movies (I had a bond marathon when I was sick a week back).


	4. You Say My Name Like There Could Be an Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcott was afraid of flying?
> 
> Had James known that? He hadn't and the surge of irrational irritation that came at the thought of someone knowing something like that before him caught the Alpha off guard. He forced the blade to continue its path back across his jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beted. Sorry I didn't get it up yesterday. Enjoy!

_A warm body settled against his back, lithe hands curling around his shoulders the heavy weight of full breasts resting against him. A greedy mouth found his earlobe, suckling around murmured words. “You are cold, sevgilim. Let me warm you.”_

_“I'm not in the mood.” James rebuked flatly. Behind him the Omega stiffened and then went completely lax, as if Zeynep was trying to sink into the agent's large frame. The brunette pressed her face against his shoulder, her hands tightening around his neck. When she spoke, her voice was totally despondent._

_“Do you love them?”_

_The beer bottle froze halfway to his mouth._

_“What?”_

_“The one you think of when we fuck.”_

* * *

**April 30 th, 2011**

Macau was stunning every time James visited. With its economy being driven almost solely by gambling and tourism, the city was built to impress. The night view from his posh hotel room was amazing, even to a jaded traveler like James. 

The night air was warm and the agent stood comfortably in a towel, eyes remote as he mixed his shaving cream into a lather. He wondered what Alcott – Q – was doing. It would be around four in the even back home. Was he home already with Rishley in 221C? MI6 was still on emergency hours, the new Quartermaster could easily still be at work. The Omega would be bent over a computer most likely, nibbling at his bottom lip as he wrote and rewrote code. But Alcott was smart enough to be able to work from home if he needed. Perhaps he had gone home then, to look after his pup. 

He could almost see it; Alcott stretched out across his sofa in some silly, themed pajamas with Rishley napping against his chest as he worked. The Alpha felt his heart tighten at the thought of it. At the thought of Alcott and his little blond pup. 

A knock on the hotel door broke him out his daze and the agent was started to realize that he'd been staring at his own reflection, lost in thought for a while. He glanced wearily towards the door before noiselessly making his way over, Walther already live. 

“Room service.” A distinctively British, feminine voice called through the wood. The Alpha frowned, both at the familiarity of it and the muddled scent coming through the door before opening it. He relaxed at the sight of the Omega MI6 agent that had shot him. For a moment he thought of chiding her for her stupidity – that could have been an excellent way to get herself shot – but he didn't even know her name, so instead he just stepped away so she could enter with a crooked grin. 

“I didn't order anything. Not even you.” 

“Well, I've got some new information.” The agent explained, brown eyes blatant as she slid them over his naked chest. James couldn't help the spike of purely male pride that shot through him at the Omega's interest.

“Aren’t you a little over qualified to be delivering messages?” Why are you here? James watched her through the bathroom mirror, thumbing at the blade of his razor, as she took in the sight of the neon buildings with the awe of a green operative.  

“Ah, it's all a part of the learning curve.” The Omega said cheerfully before turning to face him, arms crossed slightly. “And Q's afraid of flying.”

The razor hitched slightly against the double-O's throat.

_Alcott was afraid of flying?_

Had James known that? He hadn't and the surge of irrational irritation that came at the thought of someone knowing something like that before him caught the Alpha off guard. He forced the blade to continue its path back across his jaw.

But maybe Alcott wasn't afraid of flying at all, James thought morosely; maybe he just hadn't wanted to see him. 

“So,” The Omega said after a long moment, obviously confused by James' extended silence, “whoever stole the list has already decrypted it. They posted the first five names on the web. _”_  

Right. He was here for a job. Not to sit around mooning about Alcott. “Well, it was only a matter of time.”

“Well, that's just the start. They're posting five more next week and the week after. It's some kind of sadistic game.” Against M. This all had to do with M, that much was obvious.

_"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"_

_"No."_

The old bat was keeping things from him, things that James most likely needed to know to do his job, damn't, but it wasn't like he could push. M was too good to cave under James' demands.

The female agent was still watching his every move from where she stood. “A cutthroat razor, how very traditional.” 

“Well, I like to do some things the old fashioned way.” 

“Sometimes the old ways are the best.” Her words were seductive, falling from her lips like a caress and the older agent paused where he was. The offer for more hung between them and for a moment James considered it. She was beautiful, all legs and curves in scarlet and he could smell her arousal, thick and intoxicating. But then he thought of the small, black box tucked away securely in the bottom of his bag and brought the razor across his flesh once more.

“You know,” the double-O drawled slowly, ignoring the flash of disappointment on the Omega's face, “M’s already briefed me on the list. Raising the tantalizing question of what it is you're really doing here.”

* * *

James returned to MI6 with the satisfied feeling of a job well done, the swell of ego that always accompanied a successful hunt. And at least he finally understood why M had been so secretive. There had been a moment of doubt in M – something that James had been experiencing far too frequently lately – when he'd been captured by Silva. But the Alpha was loyal beyond anything and had trusted his boss to explain herself.

It was a relief, far more than he was comfortable admitting, when M had given him an explanation for her abandonment of Silva. To be in MI6 meant having to make hard decisions, being M sometimes meant having impossible ones.

Q Branch was located in the belly of new HQ, on the same level as Isolation and James walked through the twisting tunnel with his hands in his pocket, musing not only on what Silva and M had said but also on the thought of seeing Alcott again. What would he be like as Q, he wondered? Most likely brilliant. He could still remember the ease with which the Omega had traced that text message years ago.

He could hear the low mummer of voices ahead and a mounted of sign on the wall told the agent it was most likely from the nearby canteen. James toyed with the idea of stopping for coffee before deciding Silva's information was more important and turned the corner – only to run smack into someone.

It was Alcott, who let out a startled yelp of  _"James!"_ before stumbling backwards. James' hands snapped out reflexively, one grabbing the cup from the off-balanced Omega while the other secured the brunet by the hip. The drink – hot tea by the smell of it – spilled across the length of his thumb, but the Alpha barely registered the shock of heat as he stared down at the younger man.

For a moment neither of them moved, as if caught by each other's pull. Pale eyes stared at him, cloudy with emotion that James couldn't quite decipher. His own eyes ran greedily over the Omega, taking in the curves of his features, the way his curls fell liberally over the rims of his glasses and ears. It had been a week since he had last seen Alcott. It felt like far more.

The temptation to lean down and steal a kiss was almost overwhelming. Instead, James flexed his grip once on the Quartermaster's hip before letting it fall away. “Steady there...Q.”

The Omega flushed, snatching the tea from his hands. “Welcome back, 007. And I suppose some congratulations are in order." 

“Some.” The Alpha agreed, grinning at Alcott's brisk tone. The younger man watched him wearily for a moment before starting back towards the entrance of Q Branch. 

“I suppose you've come to take a look at what Mr. Silva's brought us, then?”

“I have.” 

“Did you bring my gun back?”

“I'm afraid not.” He answered with a grimace. “I meant to but a dragon ate it.” 

“A dragon.” The Omega said flatly, steps slowing for a moment. “How the – you know what, forget I asked.” He gestured towards a pair of glass doors. “Here we are.”

“I missed you."

The brunet's head snapped to stare at him, mouth parted as if to say something, but then the doors slid open and Alcott looked away, hands fisting slightly at his side. “Come on then.”  

He led James through the small office to where they had Silva's laptop waiting. The Omega was quiet, stiff almost as he approached the technology and the double-O regretted that his words had made him so.

“Now looking at Silva's computer it seems to me that he's done a number of slightly unusual things.” Alcott's pale eyes were narrowed and sharp as he stared up at the screen, fingers tapping against his thigh slightly as he watched the code shift and move. “He's established fail safe protocols to wipe the memory if there is any attempt to access certain files. Only about six people in the world could program safe guards like that.” 

Naturally, the Alpha thought dryly. “Of course there are. Can you get passed them?”

The look Alcott gave him was undeniably smug. “I invented them." 

James felt his lips twitch upwards in a grin. Of course he did. His brilliant Omega.

“Right then, let's see what you've got for us, Mr. Silva.” Watching Alcott as Q was intoxicating. He worked with a quiet, focus intensity that cast his features in the most appealing look of concentration. “And there, we're in.”

“Sir, what are we looking at?” An underling Beta – one of the new R's by the tag on his desk – asked.

“This is Omega site.” The Quartermaster answered with begrudging respect. “The most encrypted level he has. Looks like obfuscated code to conceal its true purpose. Security through obscurity.” 

For a long moment there was only silence as Alcott's fingers flew across the keyboard, his face growing more and more blank as the minutes passed. To anyone else he would appear almost blasé, but James could easily see the mounting frustration that tinted the Omega's features.

“He's using a polymorphic engine to mutate the code.” Alcott explained after a moment, voice tight. “Whenever I try to gain access it changes. It's like trying to solve a rubrics cube that's fighting back."

The Alpha left his place in the corner to stand by the rapidly typing tech. His fingers itched to reach up and stroke the back of the Omega's neck in comfort. Instead he just shifted slightly closer under the guise of staring intently at the laptop screen _._

“I have faith you'll figure it out,” James encouraged, watching as the code morphed on the screen. Some of the tension drifted from the Omega's form and the double-O smiled, pleased that his confidence could have such an effect. “You look good doing this.” He murmured softly after a moment, just loud enough for the brunet hear.

Alcott's breath hitched slightly, fingers pausing for a split second before resuming their work. There was the barest hint of a blush, pale pink across his cheek bones and James wanted to lean forward and press his lips against it. Green eyes flickered up to look at him before quickly darting back down to his work. Not quick enough, however, to hide the shy look of pleasure his words had evoked in the smaller man. James felt the crotch of his trousers tighten at the sight of it.

The Alpha had to fight down the spike of lust, remind himself that he was standing in front of the whole of Q Branch, that he was on the job. But it was incredibly hard when he could feel the heat of the smaller man next to him. The blush on Alcott's face increased and James knew that this close Omega could easily catch the scent of his arousal. The air around them seemed tensed, as if heavy, and instinct was demanding that the blond put an end to this nonsense and claim what was his. Every moment his Omega remained unbonded was another chance for someone to take him away and –

Wait.

What was that?

“Stop.” The double-O ordered sharply, erection fading at the sight of familiar letters in the jumbled mass of code. He pointed at the screen. “Go in on that.” No, he hadn't been mistaken. They were deficiently words he recognized. “It's Granborough road. I it’s an old tube station; it's been closed for years. Use that as a key.”

The brunet nodded, quickly typing in the data and before them a wide, complex set of tubes appeared, like a spider web of information. Next to him, the brunet let out a happy sound. “Oh, look it's a map.”

Alcott sounded delighted, childish almost, and James couldn't stop the affectionate smile he threw the Omega's way, nor the amused tone of his voice. “It's London. Subterranean London.”

There was a pop hiss as trap doors on the floor snapped open and for a moment James stared at them bemusedly, completely lost by what was happening. 

“What's going on?” Alcott, edging slightly closer to the Alpha, “Why are the doors opening?”

 _Oh, fuck._  

“Stay here and lock the doors.” James ordered tersely, barely waiting for a sputtered affirmative before sprinting from the office. It only took him less than two minutes to make it to Isolation from Q Branch, but Silva was already gone.

James cursed, eyes flashing with annoyance. The blond Alpha was one of the most dangerous opponents the double-O had ever faced and now he was loose in their headquarters. 

_Alcott -_

“Q, are you secure?” James asked sharply, and he let out a sigh of relief as the Omega answered immediately.

“Yes, we went on lock down after you left. Is he-”

“He's gone.” The Alpha answered angrily as he slid down the open hatch. “I'm in a stairwell below Isolation. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you. I'm looking for you.” Alcott sounded determined, more determined than James had ever heard him. “I've got you, tracking your location.” Normally the independent agent would have scoffed at that, but the idea that his Omega was watching, guiding him only filled him with a sense of comfort. Besides, James could think of worse things than having Alcott's voice in his ear. “Just keep moving forward and enter the next service door on your right. If you go through that door you should be in the tube."

“I'm in the tube.”

There was an intake of breath on the other side of the ear piece. “Bond, this isn't an escape; this was years in the planning.” Alcott's voice was grave, as if to impress upon James the seriousness of the situation. “He wanted us to capture him; he wanted us to access his computer. It all planned. Blowing up HQ, the emergency protocols, knowing we'd retreat down here. He must know you're coming now. ”

“I've got all that.” The double-O said sharply. He didn't need Alcott to spell it out for him. James wasn't stupid. He was well aware of how Silva had played them – played _him_ – like a finely tuned instrument. The idea that everything James had done had been for nothing was infuriating and more than a little humiliating. “It’s what he's got planned that worries me.”

“...of course.”

There was something off in his voice and the Alpha paused. Alcott had sounded almost...hurt? Realization struck him and James felt his stomach drop. The Omega hadn't been talking down to him, assuming he hadn't grasped the situation, Alcott had been was worried for him.

“Q-”

“District one is the closest.” The voice in his ear was professional, void of the emotion that had been in it before, “there should be a service door on your left.”

 _God damn't,_ the Alpha thought with a grimace, _when will I stop balling this up?_ “Got it. It won't open.”

There was a snort in his ear. “Of course it will, put your back into it.”

The agent actually paused for a moment, before biting down on his reply and shoving his elbow against the rusted door. Better to not piss Alcott off anymore then James had apparently already had. He tried forcing it open a few more times before stepping back in irritation.

“No, it's stuck.” There was the telltale, heavy vibration that was echoing down the tube line and James sighed. “Oh good, there's a train coming."

“What?” Alcott's voice was sharp. “Get the bloody door open, Bond.”

“Working on it.” The Alpha grunted, slamming his body forcefully against the metal. He could see the light from the train now.

“Try harder.”

“Shit.” There was no other option – either the door opened or James was seriously screwed. He threw himself backwards, shooting at the handle once before throwing himself forward again with every inch of strength adrenaline gave him.

It popped open and James threw himself into the maintenance room seconds and collapsed against the side, breathing hard as the train screamed by. “I'm through.”

Silence.

“Q?”

“So you are.” Alcott's voice sounded strained. “Do try and tone down the dramatics, 007.”

James smiled grimly at the Omega's terse way of asking him to be more careful.

“Roger that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Okay. I have no idea what the flying hell happened with things formatting but I apologize. No idea why it published in italics, triple spaced, and with random, awkward spaces between, in the middle of and following words but I had to go through and fix it on my phone. This chapter should be titled "A Study in frustration and mobile inability." 
> 
> I think I've managed to fix everything.


	5. I Often Think About Where I Went Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining Holmes stood together, a tall and striking trio in black and grey amongst the sea of mourners. The three had never looked more like brothers, despite the fact that Sherrinford’s death had left Mycroft Holmes seemingly the odd man out; the older Alpha’s shorter, rounder form and brunette hair seemed to stand out strikingly among his pale, raven haired siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. Work has been murder.
> 
> Also, serious fluff warning.

_“You would think that because we’re both Omegas my son and I would be similar.” M mused from where she stood, hands tucked deep in her coat pockets, eyes remote yet thoughtful as she gazed out over the Scottish countryside. “But I never understood Alcott.”_

_“They say that it’s often that way, between parents and children of the same dynamic.” James offered, bemused. He had no idea why M had brought up her son – the Alpha had assumed that it would have been a taboo between the two of them._

_“I’ve not done many things in my life that I regret, 007,” that Silva was one of them hung unspoken between them, “but I would place this contention between me and my youngest at the fore of the list.” M sighed and James felt a surge of guilt. He may not have been the cause of it, but the agent knew he had been the catalyst. “His brothers were always so much easier. I’ve spent my life handling Alphas.”_

_“There’s still time.” The double-O said resolutely. He didn’t like the saturnine tone of their conversation at all._

_“Bond,” M said slowly, carefully, drawling the name out as she measured her next words, “you must understand that it never had anything to do with you.” The Alpha stiffened. “I have given everything to this country, gladly, with no second thoughts. But I never wanted this life for him.”_

_“I’m surprised you let him.”_

_M snorted. “As if he left me any choice. Alcott has always known what he wanted and done little else but that. And he wants you.”_

_His sharp inhale seemed overly loud in the silence of their surroundings. “M-”_

_Severe green eyes pinned him place, silencing him. “Let it not be said that my son has anything but excellent taste.”_

* * *

**May 2 th, 2011**

It was a beautiful winter day. The sun shone brightly down on the congregation, warming their wind kissed faces and taking the cruel edge off the winter air. Yet the pleasantness of the day seemed grossly out of place to James. The cemetery was packed – Olivia Mansfield had been well known and her funeral was littered with public dignitaries and royalty.

The remaining Holmes stood together, a tall and striking trio in black and grey amongst the sea of mourners. The three had never looked more like brothers, despite the fact that Sherrinford’s death had left Mycroft Holmes seemingly the odd man out; the older Alpha’s shorter, rounder form and brunette hair seemed to stand out strikingly among his pale, raven haired siblings.

James stood far removed from the proceedings, gloved hands curled tightly by his side as they watched the casket be lowered. He felt like he had no right to come closer. No right to be near the Holmes – near Alcott – after he had failed them so. He could still hear the little Omega’s voice when he reported in that M was dead, the lack of emotion in Alcott’s voice telling him far more than any sobs or gasps could have.

How could he possibly ask him to take him back? Now that James had failed him so?

“You could go up there, you know.” A soft voice said from behind him and the agent turned, only slightly surprised to find John Watson standing behind him. The Omega was in full military uniform, his thick peacoat buttoned high against the chill. Rishley was in his arms, the pup looking somber but smart in dark wool and flannel. The baby was asleep, head cushioned comfortably on the doctor’s shoulder.

“So could you.”

Watson gave him a small smile, rearranging the sleeping pup slightly. “He’s too young to understand what’s going on outside of the fact that everyone’s sad. It was making him too upset.”

And making everything that much more, most likely. An inconsolable pup would only set everyone's nerves even further on edge. Perhaps the little baby was just one more reminder of how much the Holmes had lost recently. James reached out, laying his hand in a light touch against the baby’s back.

“How is he?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about Rishley.

“He misses you.” The double-O’s eyes snapped from the pup to Watson, gaze hard as he searched for any deception. There was nothing but an almost smothering amount of kindness and understanding. “No one blames you for this, least of all Alcott.”

The double-O dropped his hand as if he’d been burnt, stepping pass the pair. “I don’t have time for this.”

“James.” There was an edge to the Omega’s voice that froze the agent in his tracks. “This is not your fault. Don’t put that on yourself.”

The Alpha only shook his head before continuing his flight. He couldn’t be here. He felt as if newly orphaned, every instinct wailing and itching for his lost pack, and underneath it all was a biting sense of failure. James didn’t deserve to feel like this. He’d never been a part of the Holmes pack. Never had been and never would be now.

He could still feel the weight of her in his arms, as if he was still there, watching the fading light leave her face.

M was dead.

M was dead because James had – once again – not been fast enough, clever enough, strong enough to stop it.

And Alcott, his poor Omega, was left with nothing but a broken relationship he would never have a chance to mend. A relationship that neither of them would ever have the chance to mend. Something that had only shattered in the first place because James hadn’t been capable of controlling himself.

He had known, known back in that hotel room in Africa, that this would all end badly. That he would only hurt Alcott. When had the Alpha not managed to destroy everything he’d ever touched? Grief welled up in him, so strong it was almost tangible, and the Alpha had to stop, had to turn and rest his forehead against the cold metal of a lamp post to try and maintain any sense of control at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take steady breaths of icy air through his nose and debated about calling Jack or just skipping that step completely and finding some bar where he could proceed to get absolutely shit-faced.

James was so lost in it all that he’d had no idea wasn’t alone until he felt a tug on his sleeve and heard a worried, “James?”

Alcott stood next to him, flushed and breathing heavily as if he’d just run quite a long while, which he mostly likely had if he’d followed the double-O from the cemetery. He was at a compete loss, stunned and not quite beyond believing that he wasn't hallucinating the Omega’s presence.

The brunet looked slightly wild, eyes wide and wet, lips parted and a bright red from the exertion. And then everything just seemed to shift, soften, and the Omega was reaching for him with a soft, “Oh, James.”

The Alpha allowed himself to be pulled forward, a gloved hand guiding his face gently until it was bent and pressed against the soft flannel of his scarf and the equally soft skin of his neck, while its twin curled tightly around his shoulders. He clung to the Omega just as tightly, body trembling. Alcott still felt just as perfect, just as right in his arms as ever, and James shuddered at it.

“Mummy wouldn’t want this.” The agent stiffened and tried to drawl away, but Alcott’s hold on him only firmed as he quickly clarified his words. “She wouldn’t want you blaming yourself.”

“I should have protected her better.”

Alcott only sighed, pulling them apart just enough for them to look properly at one another.

“My mother was a difficult woman, but you were like a son to her. The last thing she’d want is to see you like this.” A leather clad hand raised to cup his cheek and James leaned into the contact greedily. “I know you did everything you could.” Troubled green eyed dropped as the brunette shook his head. “My family has so many enemies.”

The words were spoken softly, but were so deeply troubled, so miserable, with an air of such hopelessness that the Alpha pulled the brunette closer once again, wrapping himself around the Omega as much as possible as if that alone could protect him from whatever devils were hunting his family seemingly into extinction.

They stayed like that, wound tightly around each other in their grief, until the cold began to crawl through the layers of James’ coat and the warmth between them failed to be enough to fight off its influence. The double-O pulled away reluctantly, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the younger man's forehead. Alcott’s eyes fluttered shut at it and James felt his breath catch as the Omega allowed the contact.

Feeling every inch his daring, he cupped the brunette’s face with both hands, grip so light that Alcott could break it easily if he wished and placed another slow, chaste kiss against a closed eyelid. He pulled back just enough to trace his lips across the bridge of Alcott’s nose before repeating the action against his other eye.

The Omega let out a shaky breath, but made no motion to stop him as he ghosted his lips down Alcott’s face, allowing the warmth of his breath to fan out on the chilled skin. He hesitated just shy of the brunette's lips, so close that he could feel the heat of them, unsure if he was allowed – if he even had the right – to claim them.

“James,” and his name sounded so sweet from those lips, “kiss me.”

The Alpha obeyed immediately, letting out a groan at the lost feel of Alcott against him. The younger man’s arms curled around his neck, tugging him even closer as the kiss deepened. Nothing had ever felt so right, so perfect, as the way his Omega felt against him. They explored each other’s mouths hesitantly, licking and gliding against each other as if they’d never done it before and when they broke apart once more it was a natural act, for once without the hurt emotions or suddenness that had ended all their others.

For a long moment they just breathed each other’s air, eyes locked as the world continued on around them unnoticed, and then Alcott pulled away, hands stroking down from James' neck and shoulders to his chest, gently rearranging his coat and scarf until they covered him completely once more. The Alpha watched his movements, feeling the slow, creeping emotions of inadequacy and fear fill him. Where were they to go now? After everything that had happened between the two of them nothing could simply be fixed with one kiss, no matter how badly James wanted it to be.

Alcott seemed to read his mind, letting out a soft sigh as he pulled his hands away.

“I want this, James, but it has to be on my terms. Do you think you can do that?” The double-O nodded, almost comically quickly and James felt the burn of embarrassment on his cheeks, but if anything Alcott seemed pleased by the strength of his reply. “I want to trust you, want to believe but I need time. I don’t think I can take it if you were to…to…disappear again.” The brunette said, arms crossing in reaction to the clear discomfort of his words. He stared hard at the ground, body drawn up tight. “If we do this it needs to be…to be slow.”

James reached out, tucking an errant curl back up into his winter cap. “I can do slow.”

The Omega snorted. “I don’t think ‘slow’ is something you’ve ever done, 007.”

“I can be when I want something.”

“And you want me?”

“More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

The strain seemed to melt from Alcott frame as he leaned into James’ touch, pale eyes flicking up to meet his own once more. “John has Rishley and the house is too much right now. Would...would you like to join me for dinner?”

James gave him a small smile, tucking his arm around the smaller man as he waved down a cab.

Yeah.

He could do slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go. Too mushy?


	6. We Will Stand Tall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “James, what does my brother have on you?” Damp hands cupped his face, forcing the blond to look up at him. Pale eyes were earnest, distressed as the stared at him. “I can make him back off, just tell me and-”
> 
> “You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware.
> 
> Fluff and smut ahead.
> 
> Unbetaed.
> 
> Also, by popular demand, Alec's in this chapter.

_“Promise me you’ll stop him.”_

_She was still in his arms, growing stiller and colder even as her eyes shown fiercely up at him. It was as if every inch of what was left in the Omega’s vitality had gathered in the harsh lines of determination around her mouth and eyes._

_“He’s dead. Silva’s dead, M, I promise.”_

_“No,” M snapped, hands grasping at his arms. “No, Bond. Not Silva. His backer.” The Double-O tensed, lips pursing. Of course there was another. There was always someone else. “Siger, Sherrinford – he’s trying to destroy my family. Don’t let him have any more of my boys.”_

_“Who?” The light was fading from M’s eyes, the grip on his arms weakening._ “M, _who-”_

_“Moriarty.”_

* * *

**June 10 th, 2011**

The game was on but neither Alpha was very invested in it. They sat in the living room of James’ very expensive flat, drinking very expensive scotch, smoking very expensive cigars, and slowly welcomed the new day.

And James’ birthday.

It was a slower way of spending his birthday then the Double-O was used to, but it was actually quite nice. On the other end of the couch, Alec Trevelyan let out a curse before throwing a coaster at the television in frustration.

“It’s like he doesn’t even understand the concept of a midfielder. Daft ass.”

The older Alpha just rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. The liquor seared as it went down, the burn followed by the tastes of apples and a deep, woody spice. He’d known Alec Trevelyan for years in the Navy, the two of them had even come up through boot camp together, though they’d grown apart when James had been recruited. Alec had been eventually, too, but he hadn’t been a Double-O and the two hardly ever saw each other.

Yet in the last month the brunet had taken up the mantle of 006 the two had fallen in once again, thick as thieves, as if close to twelve years hadn’t passed without them really seeing each other. Jack had stepped down from his status, citing old age and health reasons, which didn’t seem to stop him from instantly beginning to work for MI5.

Alec had been at the top of a rather short list and Jack, who had trained him when he’d entered MI6, personally recommended him. Jack’s departure had been a surprise…sort of. James had known he hadn’t been happy for some time. He hoped the more sedate pace of MI5 (which wasn’t actually that sedate, but still nothing compared to the life of a Double-O) suited his friend better. No, what had surprised James had been Jack’s other revelation. 

“- right by him! Come on!” Alec snarled, chugging his drink before snatching the bottle off the glass coffee table angrily. The younger Double-O filled it and took a long sip before turning to eye James not so discretely.

“What?” The blond asked as the staring continued.

“Is this seriously how we’re going to spend your birthday? Watching some football game we don’t give a rat's ass about as I talk to myself?”

“Well, you always did like the sound of your own voice.” The older Alpha received a pillow to the face for that. He tossed it over his shoulder and shrugged. “I don’t feel like going out.”

“Jesus, the years have made you _old.”_

James made a show of settling further into the couch, stretching languidly. “Feel free to let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Oh come on. That’s not what I meant and you know it.” The brunet said with a wry grin. “You’ve changed, that’s all.”

“We can’t all stay twenty-five forever, Alec.”

“Yes, because forty-two is at death’s door.” The newly minted 006 turned to face him, knee propped up and bare foot pushed into the shallow area between the couch cushions. “Come on, let’s at least go to the corner pub.”

James considered it for a moment before shaking his head, “No, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

For a moment Alec stared at him as if he’d grown a second head before smirking. “That early morning have anything to do with why your guest room looks half to being a nursery?”

“I have no idea what you’re implying.” The blond said with a sharp smile. It did, in fact, as Alcott was bringing Rishley over around nine. They were going to spend the day at the zoo, the baby’s favorite place and where they usually ended up on Saturdays. When Alcott had said that he had wanted to take things slow, James hadn’t quite known what to expect. But seeing the Omega – and consequently, Rishley – almost every weekend and a handful of days during the week hadn’t been it.

Not that the Alpha was complaining.

James was on mandatory leave for two months, a long stretch even for him, so the Double-O had more than enough free time to accommodate with Alcott’s sometimes awkward work hours. It wasn’t uncommon for both the Omega and pup to spend the night at James’ flat, though the two of them hadn’t progress past anything but heated make-out sessions.

It left him with a maddening case of blue balls but, again, James wasn’t complaining.

“At least call Jack, see if you can get him over.” Alec insisted.

The Double-O hesitated. Alec and Jack were pretty close, with the elder having stayed in contact after his mentorship ended. But that didn’t mean the brunet knew what was happening with Jack right now. But…maybe he should call him. James had made it clear that he still considered the other Alpha family – _pack_ – but Jack had insisted on the distance.

Jack Giddings was a lot of things, but emotionally flexible (at least when it came to his personal life) was not one of them. It hurt James to think of how long his friend had kept this thing to himself, how long he had struggled with it. _Why,_ the Alpha mused frustrated, _did he ever think that I would have a problem with him being –_

“Is this because he’s gay?” Alec asked, voice flat and eyes sharp. The younger agent’s face was drawn in warning, entire posture stiff and James was struck with the realization that if he said yes – if Alec even suspected he said no and meant yes – he would lose this friendship.

The blond didn’t even try to deny the surge of approval he felt as he slowly set down his drink. He fixed the younger Alpha with a steady stare before taking a deep hit on his cigar. “I have not – nor will I ever – have any issue with who anyone wants to fuck.”

Alec relaxed as if he was a puppet and his wires had been cut, slinking back into a comfortable slouch, the tension completely gone as if never present. “Good. Than why isn’t he over here? I thought you two were heterosexual life mates or something.”

James quirked a grin at the odd phrasing, “Jack said he didn’t want company. When did he tell you?”

“Tell me?” Alec scoffed, “he didn’t tell me shit. A blind man could see how bad he wanted to get into Tim’s pants. The only person who couldn’t see it was _Tim_ ; of course he was far too busy angsting over his unrequited love for Jack. A pair of teenage Omegas, I swear.”

The blond Alpha felt his eyebrows raise in surprise because – frankly – he had never once picked up on the fact that his two best friends apparently wanted each other.  He hadn’t exactly been looking, and yeah, there had been a few times with Jack when he'd wondered…but Bill Timothy (or Tim, as most people called him) had never once given off anything that would have made James think he went for other Alphas.

“Maybe now that Jack’s come out at the office they’ll finally stop dicking around.” Seeing the look on his face Alec rolled his eyes, “please, the walls there have ears, _literally_. After your little heart to heart in the gym the entire department knew about Jack’s sexuality. Including Tim.”   

The older Double-O leaned back with a sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “…that explains the tinge of humiliation I picked up on when he told me to piss off.”

“Most likely. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

“If you say so,” James said with another weary sigh, “whose life do I need to destroy for this, by the way?”

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.” That earned him a flat, unimpressed look. _“Fine_ , it was Joshua Anders, poor fucker. Seriously though, James, I wouldn’t worry about this. I bet if he we call Tim right now and ask for Jack he’ll be at his flat.”

James raised his eyebrow before tossing his mobile over. The younger Alpha wasted no time, confidently punching in Tim’s number before putting it on speaker. On the third ring, a sleepy sounding Bill Timothy answered.

“Timothy.”

“Hey, Tim it's Alec. Sorry to wake you but I’ve got James here and we’re trying to track down Jack. Mind handing the phone to him?”

There was a long, long silence before there was a sigh. “Damn, it’s your birthday isn’t it, Jamie? I’m sorry, I completely forgot-”

“Don’t worry about it, you can make it up to him later.” Alec said smoothly, “Jack?”

“Huh? Yeah,” there was a grunt and a yawn on the other side of the line, “Jack, wake up. Where you supposed to be at James’ for his birthday or something?”

The smirk Alec sent him was downright _catty_.

Rolling his eyes – yet feeling immeasurably relieved – James tossed his entire wallet at the younger Alpha as he clicked the mobile off speaker and began to his best spiel to get both Jack and Tim over to his flat.

* * *

Alcott was at his apartment at nine o’clock on the dot and James met him in the lobby. He instantly relieved the brunet of the diaper bag and oversized lunch box, sliding both easily over his shoulder before accepting a sleep heavy Rishley. The pup curled limply in his hold, lacking his usually bright eyed curiosity of the mornings. He glanced at the tired baby and the equally exhausted looking Alcott, brows furrowing in concern.

The Omega gave him a small smile, muttering a tired sounding, _“Happy Birthday, James,”_ before reaching up to give him a warm kiss. The blonde slid an arm around a lithe waist, drawing the smaller man closer as the kiss dissolved into a series of affectionate nuzzles.

“You alright, darling?” He asked against soft curls, feeling his concern ramp as Alcott seemed to melt against his chest, the Omega’s hand brushing curling blond locks from Rishley’s forehead lovingly but sluggishly.

“I’m sorry,” Alcott said around a stifled yawn, “tense night at the flat. None of us slept very well.”

“We don’t have to go out.” James said softly, running a soothing hand up the Omega’s back to the nape of his neck. “We could just order a movie and relax.”

“It’s your birthday,” Alcott protested from his nestled spot, “I mean…the zoo isn’t particularly exciting but at least it’s doing something.” 

But James was already guiding them back to his private lift. “Spending time with my favorite Omegas is doing something.”

Rishley’s dynamic had come as a bit of a shock to the Holmes, as Alphas were apparently far more common in their line. An Alpha, Alcott explained irritably, had always been the first born of the next generation for over two hundred years. So when they’d gotten the test results back, there had been a fair bit of guffawing on Mycroft’s side of things. This understandably offended Alcott and Sherlock, as per his character, didn’t really seem to care. The strange Alpha was more involved with coaxing the five month old to speak.

Admittedly, Rishley seemed to be making gobbled, word like sounds but even Alcott had only started talking at seven months and he was apparently the earliest speaker of all the genius Holmes’ children.

The doors to the lift slid shut and James felt his heart buzz pleasantly at the reflection it showed him; an Omega and pup tucked safe and comfortable against an Alpha’s chest. It struck him again, just then, how badly he wanted this. How terribly, horribly he wanted this. Wanted the pale, willowy brilliance of Alcott Holmes to be his Omega. For the tiny, clever little blond pup in his arms to be his own.

Even with the short ride up to the pent house, the two Omegas already seemed halfway to sleep. He guided a stumbling Alcott to his door, carefully balancing both bodies as he opened the flat. He was infinitely glad he'd taken the time to clean up after the boys had left this morning (including two massively teased but far more reassured Alpha boyfriends) and had aired out the flat. Alcott would have his hide if he knew he’d been smoking inside.

He left Alcott on the couch before setting the bags down and fishing out a blue and green striped zebra stuffed animal from the diaper bag’s side pocket. The baby grunted in his arms and James chuckled at the scrunched, disgruntled face as he set Rishley gently down in the padded play pen. He took a moment to wiggle the tiny Omega out of his soft jacket and kid leather shoes. It was a testament to how tired the pup was that he barely stirred as James tucked the zebra and a light fleece around him. By the time he folded and placed the jacket and shoes on the bed, Rishley was already asleep, chest rising in a fast, but steady pattern.

James couldn’t have kept the soft, fond smile from his lips if he’d tried. He leaned down into the pen, brushing a hand over the pup’s hair before resting it over a tiny chest. It still managed to stun him how _small_ Rishely was, that a human could ever be that small, that James could have ever been that small. He slid his thumb over the baby’s full cheek in a gentle caress before returning to the living room.

Alcott had removed his jacket and shoes, but not put them away, the wool peacoat slung haphazardly over a chair in a manner quite unlike the ordered man. The Omega was already asleep, curled around a throw pillow, mouth slightly open and face placid. James’ smile was muted. Things had been consistently tense at 221B and C lately and the Double-O was sure he knew why.

_Moriarty._

The name had haunted him since James’ had first heard it, repeating in his mind with the same angry, terrified, breathless canter of M’s last word. What he’d been able to learn about the man had been…not good, to put it lightly. And his interest had brought him to the attention of Mycroft Holmes in a more professional manner than James was used to.

Jack hadn’t been the only Double-O to receive an offer to come work at MI5.

And for the first time in years, James was seriously considering leaving the program. Not only would MI5 keep him in England more often (and keep him closer to Alcott) but it would allow more freedom in learning just who the hell Moriarty was and why he seemed to be systematically trying to exterminate the Holmes family.

_“I need a foil, an…instrument of clever destruction, so to speak.”_

_“Why would you think I would even be interested in MI5? I could just retire.”_

Mycroft had scoffed at that, _“And if retirement is Alcott’s death sentence?”_

 _“Is_ anything _safe from your machinations?”_ James has snarled, infuriated, _“he’s your baby brother.”_

_“It is precisely because he is my ‘baby brother’ that I am doing this, Mr. Bond.”_

Shaking his head, the agent gently covered the Omega with a blanket before reaching for the lunch box. It was a wide, unwieldy thing that he’d never seen Alcott bring on their outings before, and when James opened it the Alpha saw why.

It held a boxed lunch for two, yes, and Rishley's bottles, but it also held a small cake. A birthday cake, homemade by the icing job and slightly crooked shape of it, with his name spelled across it in different colors. The Alpha grinned, pulling the cake out and placing it in the spot of honor on his dining table before putting the lunch away into the fridge.

He kicked off his own shoes before joining Alcott on the couch, a gentle tug sending the Omega into a warm, boneless pile against James’ side. He carefully recovered the brunet with the throw before reaching for his latest book.

* * *

Rishley woke sometime around noon, the sounds of distressed whines – not quite an actual cry yet – grabbing the Double-O’s attention immediately. He slid out from around Alcott’s octopus like hold and silently made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a cool bottle, heating it before padding into the guest room. Rishley perked up immediately, sitting wobbly on his own, eyes wide at the sight of the bottle in James’ hands. The pup reached out, making desperate grabby motions with his hands.

“Hungry, little man?” James teased as he set the bottle on a nearby desk and reached in to pull the baby out. Rishley was starting to be able to hold the bottle by himself, but Alcott had been very clear about the dangers of letting him try to feed himself at this age. He settled the baby on his hip – chuckling at the way he was flailing his limbs about in an uncoordinated, excited manner. “Alright, Lee, hold on.”

Alcott and, apparently, all of the Holmes' men, despised nicknames with a level of abhorrence that was almost fanatical, but Rishely was way too wieldly for so little a boy and so Lee had just sort of stuck with James.

“Ba!” The pup shrieked happily, “ba! Da ba!”

James froze, eyes wide, before shaking himself and dismissing the sound as just that – a sound. He’d heard Rishley call Alcott ‘da’ before, though who knew if the pup really knew what he was saying and while it had slightly disturbed James, the Omega had handled it with the same crisp coolness that defined his family line. It was only natural that Rishley would think Alcott his bearer. And seeing how Alcott had been the one to legally adopt him, it only made sense. They would never lie about Sherrinford or Annabeth, but there was no reason, the brunet had explained calmly, to deny his nephew the joys of having parents.

He was apparently taking too long to get them situated in the chair with the bottle because Rishley let out a pitched whine, green eyes frustrated as they stared up at him; “Da! Da! _Ba,_ Da!”

The Alpha froze again.

That had seemed like…like Rishley had…had called him…

James swallowed around a harsh lump in his throat, entire body aching with a want so bad it seemed almost unbearable, before pressing a kiss against Rishley’s forehead, inhaling the sweet milk and powder scent of pup.

“Ba!”

“Right, yeah.” The Double-O managed hoarsely, bringing the bottle up to the baby’s mouth. Rishley locked on with a passion that was ferocious, sucking so hard his left eye squeezed slightly shut.

He was being stupid.

He was being _stupid._

There was no way Rishley could know what he was saying. He was only five months old, for chistssake, things like that took coaching and who could possibly be teaching him to call James –

“You can have the job if you like.” A voice said from the doorway. James looked up from where he’d been watching with mild fascination as Rishley drank greedily to find Alcott leaning against the door frame, looking much more alert. “I heard there’s a vacancy.”

In his chest, James’ heart leapt. “Alcott-”

But the Omega was already leaving. “I’ll be heating up the lunch in the kitchen. Bring him out to the other playpen when you’re done if you would.”

* * *

The words hung in the air between them, tense but unspoken, as the night moved on. They ordered Chinese and Thai for dinner, watched the entire Godfather trilogy between bouts of caring and playing with the baby. It seemed like an eternity before it was time to put Rishley down for the night.

Once again James did the honors, returning to find the Omega elbow deep in the dishes. He approached quietly behind him, hands mapping Alcott’s flanks before sliding in a loose grip around his waist. He dropped his nose to the tall Omega’s nape, inhaling his scent deeply. Alcott shuddered, soapy hands resting on the edge of the sink as he leaned back into the touch.

“Alone at last it seems.”

“So it seems,” James agreed pressing an open mouth kiss against soft skin. “Alcott-”

“Are you really going to take Mycroft’s offer?” He interrupted. His body was still lax against the Alpha’s, hands resting pliantly on the metal, but James could hear the strain in the Omega’s voice. The agent took a step back, bodily turning Alcott around before reaching for a rag to dry his hands.

He kept his focus on the soft hands, carefully drying each nook and crevice. “Probably.”

Alcott let out a strangled sound, “why? You love the program, James. Hell, you practically _are_ the program.”

“Careful,” the Alpha warned, “you’ll do terrible things to my ego.”

 _“James,_ what does my brother have on you?” Damp hands cupped his face, forcing the blond to look up at him. Pale eyes were earnest, distressed as they stared at him. “I can make him back off, just tell me and-”

“You.”

“What?”

James gently pulled the Omega’s hands from his face, gathering them between his own before pressing a kiss against them. “…I know about Moriarty.”

Alcott lost color so rapidly in front of him the Alpha feared that without the security of the counter behind him he would have keeled over, lips quivering in blatant rage. “I’ll _kill_ him.”

“Your mother told me.”

_“What?”_

“Before she died. I promised her I would protect you from him.” The brunet looked away, unhappy, but James refused to allow him to misconstrue his words. They’d had more than enough misunderstandings between them. “Even if she hadn’t, I would still transfer. Alcott,” James paused, shaking his head, “do you have any idea what I would do to keep you safe? To keep Rishley safe?”

Pale green eyes were staring up at him intently, more intently then James had ever been looked at before.

“I never thought I’d want a mate. Never thought I wanted children,” the Alpha continued, “but every time I look at him all I can think about is how badly I want him to be ours. I’ve been on my own since I was eleven and for the first time in _decades_ I feel like I have a pack again. Do you have any idea what I will do to protect that? Any idea what I’d do to-”

A warm mouth covered his as Alcott all but surged up to meet him, wet hands sliding coolly around James’ neck. The Alpha greedily dominated the contact, arms wrapping possessively around the slender frame, yanking him forward until all space between them was eliminated. Their tongues swirled sloppily around each other, lips bruising as they scrapped against stubble and teeth. The scent of Alcott’s arousal, sweet and heady and perfect, filled the air and mixed with his own until James was nearly mad with it.

He could feel the hard line of Alcott’s erection against his thigh and the Alpha ground against it, nearly howling in victory at the needy sounds of pleasure it evoked. They rode each others thighs, the tactless movement incapable of being disguised as anything but the desperate humping that it was, hands fumbling and skating along skin as they tried to touch as much as possible.

The Omega’s entire body was quivering and trembling as he met each thrust unerringly, heaving rushes of breath curling around James' heated neck as he whimpered and moaned, each sound cataloged and memorized greedily by the Alpha. Long fingers tangled in his short locks and James let out a low growl as Alcott tugged harshly. The tugging grew more insistent, each pull more painful even as the brunet seemed to open completely to his touches, and the last thing he wanted was to stop. Yet this was the Omega's show - James had promised to take it as slow as he wanted - and so with a dissatisfied grunt the Alpha finally let himself be pulled away. Alcott looked utterly fuckable, pale flesh a perfect pink, pupils blown, and lips swollen a ruby red as he stared up at him.

A trembling hand felt blindly across the counter, the Omega’s eyes never leaving James’, before finally returning with a manila envelope. He held it between them, the motion slightly ridiculous given what they had just been doing.

“I-I’ve got some papers,” the brunet managed breathlessly, fumbling with the metal twist.

The Alpha barely kept his irritated growl in.

He’d stopped for _paperwork?_

James would never understand any Holmes.

_Ever._

But then a thin packet was being pressed into his hands, Alcott looking at him shyly. “Happy Birthday, James.”

The blond’s curiosity was enough to push back the nearly blinding wall of lust in his mind and he took a step back, restoring enough space between them to be able to read properly. James inhaled sharply, glancing up from the papers. “These are-”

“Bonding papers.” The Omega finished softly, seemingly intent on studying the Alpha’s face. “If…if you still want-”

James spun around, pulling his junk drawer open and a pen out in one solid, smooth movement. He didn’t even bother to read the legal jargon before flipping through the packet to sign, initial, and x. He got to the last page and stiffened, pen hovering over the last signature line as he hesitated. It was an adoption paper. But Alcott was suddenly there, thin frame pressed against the Alpha’s back, forehead to his shoulder, as he slid his hands down James’ thighs.

“Sign it. You want him as your own by your own words and,” the agent’s breath stuttered as Alcott’s fingers undid his fly, a palm stroking him through his boxer briefs, “we're a packaged deal.”

“Are your brothers alright with this?” James managed to croak out, hips jerking as the Omega freed his cock. He felt rather than heard Alcott’s groan as his fingers traced over the lines of his erection, as if trying to learn it’s shape from touch alone. His free hand gripped the counter edge tightly, head hanging lose and limp, mouth open as he watched slim hands work his cock expertly. One was wrapped tightly around his knot, grip flexing rhythmically around it as he undulated his fingers. He was too long for Alcott’s hands to completely cover and so the other jerked him eagerly, fingers curling up and around his head with each stroke, flickering around his shaft, as it gripped and twisted.

“I’d rather not talk about my brothers right now,” the Omega huffed as his grip tightened, his hand sliding over him faster. James groaned, pen forgotten, as both hands laid flat across the granite in a desperate attempt to ground himself, hips jerking forward in aborted thrusts. “But yes, they know.”

 _“Fuck.”_ The Alpha hissed, feeling his knot swell rapidly at the teasing. Alcott’s hand felt almost as good as a fluttering hole around the swollen skin and James knew he wouldn’t last long. It had been too long since he’d truly been able to come; longer since it had been at the hands of someone else. Especially so considering how many nights he’d spent recently, hot and ready against Alcott, only to do a full abort at the skittish Omega’s whim.

“I want you to be his papa.” Alcott whispered softly against James’ neck, his chin resting on the blond’s shoulder as he watched himself work intensely. “Want to be your mate. Want to have so many more blonde babies.”

_Oh fucking god._

“Will you give them to me, James? Fill me up with your pups? I want it so bad I swear I can feel my womb _ache_ with it. I've spent so many nights with my fingers and toys so deep inside me, but they don’t work.”

A hot mouth nipped at his throat, just under the bonding gland under his chin.

“You’d fill me up right, wouldn’t you? Fill me up so deep. Knot me so good, so hard, I’d be stuck on you for _hours_ , just you filling me again and again. I want it so bad, I’m not even on anything anymore. Can you smell it? Smell how ready I am for you?”

Something inside the agent snapped at that - an almost physical break in his will power, a violent shift to the primal mind - and within a second James had slammed the Omega front first against the counter, snarling. Alcott whimpered, legs spreading wide even as his hands fumbled for purchase against the counter top, grip nearly impossible with hands so slick with the Alpha’s precome. The Double-O made short work of the brunet’s jeans and pants, growling loudly at the sight of shiny slick down Alcott’s inner thighs. He didn’t even bothering to move the brunet’s jeans down past his knees before mounting the Omega roughly.

For a moment the Alpha’s vision honest to god whited out. Alcott was so tight, the entrance of his vaginal opening wrapped like a warm vice around his tip while a tight pucker fluttered around his swelling knot. He’d fucked Omega’s bareback before but never had it felt like this; never had it felt as if James had been sliding home. Alcott let out a high pitched keen, thighs trembling as he tried to pull his legs even further apart, back arching, trying to present despite the heavy weight of the Alpha on his back, the constraints of his own clothing around his knees.

James cursed, hands digging deep into Omega’s hips as he began a grueling pace. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the unbelievable perfection that was the inside of Alcott Holmes. “Fucking – _Alcott_ , so fucking perfect.”

“James,” the brunet gasped, hands finally locking on the opposite edge of the counter in a desperate grip as the Alpha began to pound into him relentlessly. Each thrust nearly sent the Omega skidding across the surface, but James’ grip was unrelenting, keeping him pinned flat. “Please,” Alcott whimpered, “please, please, _please._ Wanted you for so long, _James, please.”_

The Alpha curled himself over the Omega – his Omega’s – form, panting harshly as he pistoned even harder, speared even deeper. He was close, so painfully close. The agent tried to beat off his orgasm but it was impossible, not with the feel of Alcott around him. Not with the sight of him bouncing back against James’ cock as if this was the only thing he’d ever been made to do.

“Gonna come.” He panted harshly against the slender neck, mouthing at the hormone swollen lymph node. His knot was catching on every thrust, swelling so thick that it was getting more and more difficult to do even the shallowest of motions. The Omega shuddered around him, tightening so beautifully around his cock. “Hope you meant it – because I’m going to fill you so full you can’t help but be pupped, heat or not.”

Alcott let out a long, almost pained groaned. “M-Meant it. Meant all of it – oh _god_ – do it. Claim me, James, please, please, please-” his frantic begging tampered off into a full blown scream as the Alpha bit down, the slender body under him locking so tightly around him in orgasm that James was instantly thrown over the edge.

It seemed like he was coming for ages, teeth still locked in a light but deep grip around Alcott’s flesh as hips rocked and rocked and rocked. It felt like an eternity before the Alpha stopped, slumping against the small frame of his mate, chest heaving. They were both covered in sweat, their clothes sticking something terrible, and the discomfort was enough to ground James.

Instincts – long practiced and deeply ingrained – drove him to gently lick the wound, the coagulates in his saliva working to stem the blood flow. They were still locked tightly together, Alcott shuddering around him, trying to pry as many orgasms from James as possible. With more strength then he could have imagined having the Double-O managed to get them off the counter and onto the ground, the Omega carefully balanced in his lap and off the cool tile floor.

The brunet’s head rested against his shoulder, face utterly blissed out, but James knew they weren’t done yet. The Alpha tilted his head to the side, movements hitching as the motion rocked Alcott around his knot, and guided the Omega’s mouth to his own bonding gland.

“Bite.” James instructed, voice strained and hoarse, as he pressed a kiss to damp, flattened curls. He felt an experimental lick on his neck, than a gentle kiss, before teeth dug into the tender gland. The reaction was instant. 

James’ hips rocketed up as his back arched violently, lifting them both clear off the ground, their entire weight on the balls of his feet and the flat of his shoulders pressed back against the fridge door, mouth open in a silent cry of pleasured disbelief. His knot flared even further, hardening in a manner that James had never experienced, suddenly oversensitive to the point of pleasured pain, as he proceeded to have the most intense orgasm of his life. When he came back to himself, every muscle was trembling. His balls ached, drawn close to his body, and it took all of the Alpha’s dwindling strength to keep them both supported as his thighs and knees shook violently.

Alcott was making soothing sounds from where was bathing the wound, his warm tongue a stinging comfort against the torn gland. “It’s alright, James, it’s – _oh_ – you feel so good. Filling me so good.”

With effort the Alpha managed to guide his body down in any manner other than just collapsing, arms wrapping tightly around the Alcott’s form as he captured his new mate’s mouth in a deep kiss. They kissed languidly, tongues exploring each other’s mouth, tangling together lazily. James’ clothed body was overly warm and aching against the hard tile, Alcott a uncomfortable (but not uncomforting) weight against his wrecked muscles, his throat bloody and throbbing in bursts of pain that echoed his heartbeat.

Yet James had never been so content in his life.

“I love you,” Alcott said breathlessly, eyes bright with emotion. The blond pressed in for another kiss, murmuring his own feelings against swollen lips. 

The shrieking cry of a baby interrupted the moment and Alcott huffed a laugh while James felt panic burst in his chest. How could they take care of Rishley locked together like this? Knottings could easily take up to a half hour even out of heat and the first knotting of a bonding could supposedly take even longer. What if the pup was hurt? But even as he found himself growing more worried, gently tugging at the place they were connected, James felt his knot begin to deflate.

To his shock – and slight embarrassment – it was down in almost a minute.

_What the hell?_

Alcott stood, stretching as he pulled his bottoms back up but the Alpha only stared at his shrinking dick, utterly perplexed. How long an Alpha could knot was sign of virility - and not one the Double-O had ever had a problem with before. Was this a old age thing? He was forty-two, Christ what if he had to see a doctor or something? He didn't _want_ to be that Alpha from the commercial, looking confident in his masculinity as he popped his pill a half hour before sex. When James failed to move, the Omega looked down at him questionably. The look on his face must have been something else because the brunet laughed before leaning down with just the slightest wobble and kissing his forehead. “You’re not broken or anything, James. It’s a left over instinct from when we were all roaming around the bush. An infant cry causes a rush of chemicals to stop a mating.”

“Ah.” James accepted, the harsh blow to his pride disappearing, and stood with a wince before pulling his own bottoms back up. Alcott was washing his hands quickly, a bottle already heating in the microwave as the Alpha stiffly made his way over to the counter, trying to stretch out the ache in his thighs and buttocks. The sight of crumpled and stained paper littered across the granite gave him pause.

“Alcott?”

“Hm?” The Omega asked, turning to look at him as he dried his hands on the kitchen towel.

James held up the semen soaked paperwork. “You wouldn’t happen to have made copies of these, did you?”

The look on Alcott’s face could only be defined as horrified before he slumped against the fridge, face resigned. “Mycroft is going to be insufferable about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we go. The last of my 00Q for a while. We'll be seeing more of James and Q, as well as all three of the agents in the stories to come. Did you guys like Alec? The other relationship between the other Double-Os? I'll be finishing Mycroft/Lestrade thing shortly, while I'm also ready to start on the Sherlock/John part of this series. I really appreciate you guys coming along for the ride. I hope this chapter was what everyone wanted and you are all my favorite people.


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